Poetry - snowing confetti blossom

The Sun adorns the shimmering leaves With a lace dress of gold. Green and gold dance as he weaves Patterns of life untold.   Suspended in the firmament Of earthly dust and flame The leaves tell of Love’s long lament At worldly loss and pain.   Beauty of the leaves cast its Heavenly made design Imbuing with hope as befits Those still entrapped in time.   Sharp light invades my soul Golden pure notes of life Time’s passing shadows toll; Falling leaves cut like ice.   Good death come swiftly now Repay your lover’s lament With a silent heart that no pain Can reach, nor fear can tear from a life So spent. © Iona Waters

  A doleful village clock Mournful of each passing hour Counts out time’s fading leaves. Its resonate note pauses too long A desolate voice, it hangs in the air Reluctant to relinquish existence Before yielding to the harvest dust of passing time.   A solemn warning against waiting, it says “Live now and breathe deeply of life In the eternity of each fleeting moment”. Tomorrow will soon be yesterday. Loose no time to live without love Wherever it may be hiding. Banish the threat of living as a shadow Of what should have been. Life’s bitter sweet colour Waits to bestow new vigour.   Live not in the shadow of time past. Messy, ceaseless searching is better Than to fall away into the apparent safety of Shadows and sidelines.   Breathe deeply of life in the eternity of each passing moment. Accept life’s gauntlet, Obey the rocky pathways that shout in silence Around life’s ever changing sea.   Do not fear the ...

  Last night I stumbled into Aladdin’s cave. Letting go of fear, guilt and hate I watched them disappear as wisps of smoke from a golden lamp.   Inside the cave the walls were opulent, Thick, velvety, black and smooth. They concealed a myriad of glistening jewels, Encased in the purest gold.   There my love and I wove webs of silver thread until morning When the golden sun rose in an azure sky. We watched them glimmer and glisten in the new light. No lethal spiders crawled abroad. The webs sparkled, objects of crystalline beauty in the purest day. © Iona Waters

    Today, as I waited for dusk to dawn on quiet Canach, a giant deviant dinosaur devoured great lumps of concrete outside my house in village lanes and fields. Fickle, fretful, yellow, with prehistorical precision, I watched the mechanical monster from the safety of my window, As it ferociously gulped down wire and grit From the ancient farm opposite.   The barn had stood for many years Quietly passing time in gentle Canach With yellowing wheat stores And stumbling cows Home to passing, fecund seasons.   Now our view is not of a crumbling farm With mysterious, dark buildings, housing rumbling Tractors and squealing pigs. A rambling greenery, speckled with little wild flowers Adorns the ground.   Blue, clear skies surround us, No longer filled with towering grain stores.   Thank you, dear dinosaur, noisy and jumpy as you were, Bashing your way through local history, feasting on concrete Boulders in your wake...

Chattering leaves danced to their death in the gusts of autumn wind, Wending their pathway to eternity perhaps As they sighed and fluttered their last breath under the dying embers of a waning sun. They whispered in excitement while they were dancing in anticipation of what was yet to come.   Cold, rainy tears dripped from forlorn trees, Bare with longing for the gaiety of their leaves Now lost to winter’s creeping frosts. Crackling twigs concealed mice hurrying to their warm dens beneath the earth’s encasing, rotting canopy.   The trees waited in solemn patience, not needing to explain their existence, dark twiggy branches twisted skyward, Gently flirting with the icy wind. that breathed eternity over winter's vigil.   Breath froze, suspended in the cloying air as everything drew to a graceful close. The sky scattered white frozen crystals that carpeted the earth with an ice shroud. The trees stood silent, in acceptance...

Shall I go out to weep On the terrace ruins? My unfettered heart leaks ‘Til the crumbling earth runs.   Shall I give myself To the song of the wind… It calls to me sweeping, Soaring with the birds floating above the clouds.   Shall I dance with spirits That whisper to my soul? Shall I melt prison walls And bid my Self let go? © Iona Waters